AN: Requested by @charliebradbury1104:
Do you already have your 15 request? If by chance you don’t I’d like to make one. Dean x reader where he totally falls in love with everything about her. However, he’s afraid to tell her how he feels. So she has to tell him she loves him first.
I tried writing this more from Dean’s POV than the reader’s for a change. Hope you like it! Thank you to @jalove-wecallhimdean for being the awesome beta she is!
I’m not sure when it first happened really. It almost seemed to happen overnight. It hit me like a freight train, and it stole my breath and made my heart feel as if it might literally explode inside of my chest. She hadn’t been doing anything out of the ordinary, really. Just research for a case that we had been on at the time. I think it was a kitsune case. Anyway, I’m getting off track here.
She had been sitting with us at the table in this awful motel room somewhere in Oklahoma. We had probably been at it for five or six hours and I remember my brain feeling like it might fall right out of my head if I had to read another word. Just a quick glance up was all it took. She had her hair pulled up into this messy knot on the top of her head, only a pencil holding it in place. Her button up shirt had been thrown aimlessly in the room at some point, leaving her in this worn out black tank top. She had a pen between her teeth, her lips wrapped around it and brow scrunched in deep concentration while her eyes moved quickly across the pages in front of her. That’s when it hit me. That one little glance had turned into a full on stare, my heart began to beat so fast and my palms became sweaty like some teenage boy trying desperately to control his hormones.
Summary ; when meg comes back for revenge on the winchesters, she hauls sam’s body and makes the cruel and callous decision that hurting y/n will cause the most emotional destruction and devastation on the boys, especially sam. and so, cut to a week later - meg’s damage has been done and sam sits by your hospital bed, hoping and praying with all his heart that you’ll wake up soon, to be in his arms and to come home with him.
Pairing ; sam x reader
Warnings ; hospitals, coma patients, mentions of demon!sam, mentions of violence, sad!sammy, angst, possible character death, cliffhanger ending
Everywhere he looked, every direction he glanced, every angle he tilted his head at and peered vaguely, he perceived the busy hospital ward full of doctors and nurses swiftly rushing and hustling across the squeaky-clean floors with clipboards full of information captured in hand.
And rows and columns of people sitting in the waiting rooms - some dismally clinging to others for comfort, some with faint smiles on their faces, some sitting neutrally; all of them had stories to tell. It was full of noise - whether it was the ignorant chatter or the wrenching cries of the heartbroken, there was noise and it was seemingly endless.
Sam managed to block out all said distractions by his sixth visit; the only noise reassuringly reaching his ears was the sound of the heart monitor attached to your sickly pale figure through various wires - consistently reminding him in quiet beeps that you were alive and, therefore, were able to be saved somehow.
Nevertheless, you lay still unremittingly, the rise and fall of your chest faint and your hand held limply in his. His thumb would occasionally run back and forth across your bruised knuckles as he sat beside your bed on an unforgiving and treacherous chair that he was almost accustomed to, much to his dismay.
From Sam’s Point of View, he tells a story of how much he loved you.
Characters: Reader (Female), Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, mention of Castiel.
Warnings: Angst, character death, poor Sammy Sam getting shit he doesn’t need. Minor language.
A/N: This is my very first short drabble! I wanted to start out small and work my way up from here. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in future stories!
Tagging: @impalaimagining and @saxxxology (I hope you ladies don’t mind! I just want to try to spread the word. Let me know if you would not like to be tagged!)
Let’s pretend for a moment that we pulled apart all your organs and laid them on a table.
Now let’s say you had to pick only one. Which one would you choose? It’s those situations where you have to choose wisely. Or else you’ll lose all you have.
You see, it’s not easy, giving away yourself like that. What if you gave your heart to one girl, who would soon ruin your life.
One girl, to any man she is just, a girl. Oh well, not me. This woman was not just any girl.
She was spitfire, funny, beautiful, tough, amazing, she was everything a man could dream of.
Dean and I found her on a case in Idaho. She was a hunter, just like us. And damn was she good at her job too. I fell in love with her the moment she turned Dean down and asked me for a drink instead. At the moment I realized that she was nothing like Ruby or Jess. We soon found out she had nowhere to go, her family was killed when she was little and she stayed in in crappy motels. After the case, I talked Dean into letting her stay with us in the bunker. Of course, Dean was stubborn as always, but after a night in the bunker and a homemade breakfast, he let her stay with us.
It was hell after Dean came back from being a demon, she was never the same. She always looked up to him as a big brother. Dean later told me that she always went to him for advice, especially if it was about me.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one with feelings.
A few weeks later, the Mark of Cain started eating up Dean. He became reckless, hell he even started lashing out at her. She became miserable. She pushed herself to find a way. And she found one. Besides making a sacrifice to get of rid of the Mark of Cain, there was a way of transporting the mark to another vessel. The amount of pain was just as much as being tortured by the devil himself.
Believe me, I would know.
But she did it, by the time Dean and I got there it was too late. Rowena had already cast the spell. We watched as she lit up, screaming in agonizing pain.
She fell to the floor, choking on air. I remember running to her, grabbing her and holding her in my arms. Telling her she was going to be okay or “Stay with me, sweetheart!” But all she did was smile, it was a weak one. Still so beautiful to me.
“Let me go, Sammy,” She coughed up a little bit of blood “I love you so much, and I will always love you.”
Those were her last words, I didn’t know what kind of love she meant. Dean told she loved me more than a friend. And that I hated her for.
I drank, I hunted, I kept myself busy to hide the pain. Cas and Dean worried, but I don’t. I know she probably doesn’t like how I’m coping with her death, but fuck it hurts so badly. So here it is, how again the love of my life ends up dead, how everyone who I love dies because of me.
But Y/N L/N, she was my rock. She was the walls that protected me, she was the home I longed for.
She was my best friend, my soulmate.
And I loved her, more than my heart could take.
The first sentence is an expert from The Parts of You That Aren’t “I” so credit to the author of that book for the quote!
Warnings: angst, death, sad fic with even sadder ending.
If you had asked Dean Winchester where he had heard the lullaby he sang his brother asleep to, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. He had heard the song in a random place at a random time. Maybe at a grocery store or flipping through the channels of his father’s car radio. The discovery wasn’t what stood out to him; the lyrics did.
Series Summary: Reader’s closest friend was brutally murdered and there was only one person she could turn to, her best friend-Sam. But here’s the twist, she has never seen Sam. For 15 years now she has been writing and receiving letters/ Emails from her best friend without knowing what he does or even looks like. Does she like him? Maybe. But what happens when she finds herself falling for this other beautiful man she has just met?
Warning: Death, Angst, Graphic, Sam fluff
A/N: I can’t even begin to thank you guys for the messages, asks and comments, it was truly overwhelming and humbling. I love you!
Beta: @sdavid09! Shanna, I don’t know what I would have done without you! Thank you love for being as excited about this as I was. You’re freaking Awesome!
This has been a really special series for me. I hope you like the last part as much as the others.
Two successive gunshots blared from behind, as a tall figure ran past you. You could see what was happening, understand it even but for the life you, couldn’t make sense out of it. It was as if you were standing in a different frame of reality ad the scene unfolding before you was from another. As you watched Dean run from behind you, gun blazing, a sick sense of Déjà vu settled over you.
The events of the evening were repeating themselves in sickly familiar order as Dean crouched next to his brother. Those actions from only a few hours ago seemed years old as you stood there watching Dean slap his brother’s cheek, trying to wake him. The rounds aimed at the werewolf’s heart had found their target on point and he had toppled over, crashing into the cupboard and falling into a heap on the ground, his yellow- ocher eyes deadly even in death.
Sammy x Reader Warnings: death of minor character, disturbing descriptions/imagery, scary situations, mentions of nightmares, anxiety, & insomnia
A/N: Part 1 here! Welp. We’re gettin’ into it now… Hold onto ya pants, kids!
Your best friend Jamie was frowning at you softly as she handed you a cup of tea. You accepted it out of politeness but immediately set it down on the coffee table. You didn’t really have the stomach for anything lately.
Jamie noted the action. “It’s not getting any better?” she asked, not really needing an answer.
”No.” Your voice was thin and quiet.
”Still not sleeping?”
You shook your head. “Not really. A little when I’m just too exhausted to keep my eyes open but as soon as I fall asleep it’s like—it’s like slipping into dark, black water. There are nightmares waiting just below the surface.” Your eyes were hollow as you spoke, and Jamie felt a wave of fear for you. “Always…” you trailed off, and your expression was even emptier as your mind crept back to places where Jamie wasn’t sure she could reach you.
You say you don't trust Boris, but I'm more worried about Alice tbh. Like, this is pure speculation at this point, but I could totally see a scenario in which she gets you to the exit, tells you to leave, and if you decide to stay behind and help Boris she'll try to kill you to keep you from meeting the same fate-worse-than-death Sammy and the other employees met.
You never know with the cartoons, but I really doubt Henry would turn down an opportunity to leave this hellhole when that’s been his goal for the last entire chapter.
One of the things that bothers me is that Vos never mentions Sammy. If his death was a trick, why couldn’t Sammy’s have been, too? He doesn’t even know that Jack found her inventory. Shouldn’t he be concerned?
Another excellent point! It’s possible that he assumed because he hadn’t heard Sammy in all the time he was trapped that she actually had died, but then it could also be possible that her death was a trick and she managed to escape. The fact that he never once asks about her, someone who was his friend, ne of the last people he saw before being imprisoned seems really odd. Something is definitely not adding up about the whole Vos situation.
I'm a diehard Destiel shipper and I love Sam. Sam IS me. He's my favorite character on SPN. Dean and Cas are like my best friends who I love more than anyone in the world and want more than anything to end up together and be happy. I have literally never heard a Destiel shipper say they hate Sam. I will defend Sammy to the death (nay, to the pain!) PS - All the best Destiel fanfics include Sam in a positive way.. so all this alleged "Sam hating" is not a thing even in Destiel fanfic.
You are so lucky to have never met one who hates Sam :( I have a few friends who ship it and I’ve gotten mad at them for trashing Sam to my face. I’ve met and seen a lot of hate towards Sam from shippers in the past, but a lot more towards Sam/Jared by Jensen/Dean Stans. And I see hate towards Misha/Cas by wincest shippers. And me being a multishipper/ open to most ships, I see it all. I can’t escape it.
And Same, I haven’t read one destiel fic where Sam is hated. He’s always trying to get them to date and make up.
“Brother dearest, brother mine, You were five and I was nine. Scared to sleep alone, like most nights- scared of monsters, ghosts and rightly so. I tucked you in, stayed til you drooled down your chin, and was ‘bout to leave, when you called softly, “Dean, I’m scared. Will you protect me?” I looked at you then, tousled your hair. “Always,” I said, and right then and there I made a vow to last for all time, brother dearest, brother mine.
Things Sam Winchester said when he was expecting to die
5.21 (Two Minutes to Midnight)
‘You go find Lisa. You pray to god she’s dumb enough to take you in and you – you have barbecues and go to football games. You go live some normal, apple-pie life, Dean. Promise me.’ - Sam to Dean while they are driving to Detroit where Sam will say yes to Lucifer.
Sam has already warned his brother against attempting to rescue him. He wouldn’t risk Dean poking at the Cage once Lucifer was locked in because the consequences could be devastating. Moreover, Sam is quite aware of Dean’s carefully repressed desire for family and domesticity. He encountered Lisa and the picnic tableau in Dean’s dreams after all. As he’s riding to his imminent death and worse, this is Sam seeking insurance for his brother’s safety and happiness.
9.01 (I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here)
‘If I go with you… can you promise that this time it will be final? That if I’m dead, I stay dead. Nobody can reverse it, nobody can deal it away… and nobody else can get hurt because of me.’ - Sam bargaining with Death within his own psyche.
Seasons seven and eight were exceptionally trying times for Sam. Then came the actual Trials that gradually sapped the life out of him. Dean stops him before the final sacrifice but I think Sam is genuinely tired here. He wouldn’t mind the peace and comfort death brings. But Sam also knows that death, in his experience, isn’t always permanent. And every time that happens, someone ends up paying a heavy price. Look at him choosing his words. This is Sam Winchester, Stanford pre-Law, drafting an iron-bound contract that will prevent anyone else (especially Dean) from being hurt on his account after he’s gone.
10.23 (My Brother’s Keeper)
‘Take these. And one day, when you find your way back, let these be your guide. And they can help you remember what it was to be good…what it was to love.’ - Sam offering two beloved family pictures to Dean who is poised to kill him.
The whole of season ten bears testimony to Sam’s loyalty and dogged determination. He had declared that he would save his brother or die trying. He realizes now that his brother has figured out a third option: Sammy dies and Death prevents the wrath of the Mark from being unleashed upon people by removing Dean from the earth. After some words and fisticuffs, Sam is on his knees awaiting execution where he gives Dean explicit permission to kill him. Once again, Sam agrees to lay down his life for the greater good. Once again, he tries to ensure Dean’s general wellbeing when he’s no longer around.
Sam has died or had near-death experiences several times on the show. Sometimes, death takes him by surprise and sometimes, he knows it’s coming for him. I believe the second situation would be far more difficult. Yet, look at his reactions. The contexts are different, the outcomes are different but a common thread runs through them all. Sam Winchester always tries to look out for Dean and the world. In his lifetime or from beyond the grave.
Kathy: Dtatta, you emotionally compromise me every time! And I thank you for that.
The death of a Somali Canadian at the hands of Ottawa police on Sunday has sparked nationwide anger and plans for protests by activists who say police violence against the black community is not solely an American problem.
Abdirahman Abdi, a 37-year-old immigrant from Somalia who neighbors said suffered an unspecified mental illness, died after a confrontation with police outside his apartment building. Witnesses said the police, responding to a harassment complaint, beat Abdi repeatedly with batons before handcuffing him.
A protest over Abdi’s death and police handling of the incident is planned for Thursday in Montreal.
Black Lives Matter Toronto co-founder Rodney Diverlus said police brutality against minorities often goes ignored in Canada. “The difference in Canada is that there’s a myth of inclusivity and there’s a myth that this thing doesn’t happen here because our police are less accountable to the public,” he said.
While BLM has had a presence in Canada since the protests in Ferguson, Mo., kick-started the movement in 2014, the recent killings of Alton Sterling in Baton Rouge andPhilando Castile in Minnesota, as well as the shooting of Charles Kinsey in North Florida have inspired protests across Canada in solidarity with the American victims.
Abdi’s case is not the first time an unarmed minority has died at the hands of Canadian police. In Montreal, the 2008 killing of Fredy Villanueva, an 18-year-old native of Honduras, inspired protests and was one of several high-profile police shootings that led to the founding of an independent agency that investigates police violence.
In July 2015, a Toronto police officer fatally shot 45-year-old Andrew Loku, an immigrant from South Sudan with a history of mental illness, in his apartment building. The officer was not charged.
Perhaps most publicized was the 2013 death of Sammy Yatim, who was shot eight times and then Tasered after pulling a knife on a Toronto streetcar. The officer who shot him was found guilty of attempted murder in January.
“Strategic policing goes after problem places, the places that have higher levels of violence,” said Irvin Waller, a professor at the University of Ottawa’s Institute for the Prevention of Crime. “In Canada, you have a disproportionate number of black people in those areas and a disproportionate number of Aboriginal people in those areas. Secondly, they have used some of the American policing techniques. Stop and frisk from New York has been used as a carding procedure in Canada. In Toronto, it’s very clear the carding procedure was used disproportionately against young blacks.”
Experts said that while Canada has far fewer acts of police violence than does the United States after adjusting for population differences, much of that can be attributed to a wider social safety net and far less access to hand guns.
Even so, the black and Aboriginal communities are targeted at a greater per capita rate than the rest of Canadian society.
The scope of the problem of police violence against those communities can be difficult to quantify. The Ontario Special Investigations Unit, a civilian oversight agency that looks into acts of violence involving police, compiles statistics by geography and the sex of the complainant, but keeps no statistics on race. Ian Scott, a lawyer and former head of the unit, said that’s because when the organization was founded, those statistics weren’t kept at the request of minority groups, fearing they would be misused.
“One reason they were not kept when the (unit) first started was that there was a big fuss in Toronto involving keeping race-based statistics,” said Scott. “The culture has really changed over time and now it’s the black groups that are interested in having race-based statistics. My feeling is now that if visible minority groups want to have race-based statistics, we should keep them.”
Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could write something where the reader is a hunter and when she meets Dean she sees everything that’s ever happened to him. Like, when they shake hands or something. ｡◕‿◕｡ Thanks.
Warnings: fluff, feels
Note: I’m really happy you all liked the first part, so I hope you enjoy this one as well!
Sam stares up at the ceiling, or
really at the star stickers placed there weeks ago. They glow an eerie green,
but he doesn’t mind. Anything is better than the dark.
He turns his head slowly to stare at
the glowing face of the clock on the nightstand. 10:17 pm. It has been fifteen
minutes since the lights were turned off. The stars would lose their power
“Hey, Thomas?” he whispers into the
A moan replies, followed by the
rustling of sheets being pulled over a head.
“Thomas, are you awake?”
“No, you idiot, I’m asleep,” a voice
“Then how come you answered?”
“God, Sammy, just shut up.”
Sam turns back to face the stars.
Yup, they are definitely getting dimmer. Or maybe he’s just imagining it. He
squints hard to see if there is any noticeable difference. After some time, he
has to stop so he can exhale and pants at the effort.
“Why are you breathing so loud?”
Thomas asks from some unseen area of the room.
“Can’t sleep either, huh?” Sam says.
Thomas sighs, trying to keep the
annoyance at bay as much as possible. Sam imagines him running his hands over
his face as he’s done plenty of times after one of his questions.
Pulling the sheets even tighter
around him, Sam begins to sweat. His father keeps insisting that he should get
rid of some of the sheets now that it’s summer, but that would leave him so
much more vulnerable.
“Thomas?” Sam says.
“What?” This time his voice comes loud
“If you keep talking loud, mom and
dad are going to wake up,” Sam reminds him, cupping his hands around his mouth
to minimize the noise as much as possible.
“For the love of—” Thomas’ voice is
not much quieter than before, but after a pause he makes an effort. “What’s
wrong Sammy? Why can’t you sleep?”
“The stars are dying.”
“They do that every night.”
"Yeah, but I usually fall asleep
“So fall asleep now and beat them.”
“Because they’re dying.”
Thomas exhales deeply. Maybe he is
trying to squint at the stars as well. If that’s the case, Thomas should have
let Sam put the stickers on the other side of the room as well. Much easier to
stare at if they’re right over your head and you can pretend that they’re real
stars, only bigger and greener and more alien.
It’s a long time before Thomas says
anything else, so long that now Sam is a hundred percent sure that the stars are
near death. “Sammy, why don’t you just close your eyes so that you won’t know
when the stars die?”
Sam twists his mouth in a thinking
face. Then, remembering that Thomas couldn’t see it, he says, “I’m thinking
A pillow smacks Sam in the face,
dragging a yelp out of him. His hands clamp over his mouth, holding in any
other sounds. He can taste the saltiness of sweat on his fingers. The movement
pushed his blankets askew and knocked one of his toys over on its face. Great,
now he has to tuck the sheets back in.
“What was that for?” Sam asks, as he
begins to pull the sheets back into their near-suffocating position.
"You know, some of us have tests in
the morning,” Thomas says. His voice was getting dangerously close to being
loud again. But not as dangerously close as the stars were to going out.
“I’m sorry, Thomas,” Sam says. “I
still can’t sleep.”
“Well then shut up and let the rest
of us sleep.” A body rolls around on the other side of the darkness, clearly
finished with the conversation.
The glow of the clock flinches every
time the minute changes, which seems to happen faster and faster. Sam tries not
to think about what that means for the stars. He tries to content himself with
the light from the clock, which is blue and much nicer than the radioactive sheen
on the ceiling. It’s not the same though. The clock has never been able to
chase away the darkness the way that the sticker stars have. By now, the
blackness has choked out all but the planets and some of the bigger stars. His
heart begins to pick up the pace. The covers feel like a boa constrictor now,
offering no comfort and yet he still can’t bare the thought of taking them off.
“Sammy?” a voice whispers.
“Yeah?” Sam squeaks.
“Are you crying?”
“No.” But he was, even though he
wasn’t sure when it had started.
The sheets rustle again and a shadow
emerges somewhere within the nothingness. The blue clock suddenly lights up
Thomas’ face as the boy pulls open the drawer of the nightstand. Rummaging for
some time, he finally pulls out a long object.
“Flashlight,” Thomas says, placing
it on top of Sam’s chest.
A hand slowly emerges from the
cocoon to grip the metal flashlight. “It won’t work. I need the stars.”
Thomas smiles down at him and flicks
on the light. Pointing it up to the ceiling, he says, “I know. This is to
recharge them. Just hold it up for a few minutes and then the stickers will be
fine, you’ll see.” To prove the point, he moves the light down and already the
greenish glow is brighter.
Sam snatches the flashlight and
waves it around the ceiling, beaming as brightly as the light in his hands.
“You okay now, buddy?” Thomas asks.
Sam nods quickly before returning to
Thomas ruffles Sam’s hair with a
barely illuminated grin. “Well, hurry up and turn off that light. And you better
not shine that in my face.”
Sam swipes the light across until
every last sticker glows. Turning off the flashlight, he can hear Thomas
already snoring in his bed. He takes one last look at the stars before closing
his eyes to the darkness.